


The Unfinished House

by the_noble_bachelorette84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_noble_bachelorette84/pseuds/the_noble_bachelorette84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly has just bought a townhouse a few minutes’ walk from work. It’s beautiful. Classic architecture with high ceilings, big windows, and a lovely view on the nearby park. But it needed a bit of repair. Thankfully, Molly’s boyfriend, consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, was a dab hand at small home repair and remodeling. Our story begins a few days into the project, just after breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unfinished House

“Damn! These fasteners are the wrong type, this paint is the wrong color, and I can’t find my tape measure!” Sherlock barged in to what would eventually be the living room, which Molly had just begun painting with a primer base. She looked up at the flustered man before her, who had really taken this project to heart, even getting himself a carpenter’s belt for all the odds and ends he would need. Molly popped up from the baseboard molding she was sponging, and took the can from him. She opened it to check for herself, only to find that it was in one of the shades she HAD chosen. Confused, she asked “Which room are you working on?”   
“The upstairs bathroom. Wasn’t that the one you wanted painted in lavender? This is chartreuse, almost!”   
“No, I’m doing lavender accents. That shade is correct for that bathroom. Now, what about the fasteners?” She asked patiently.  
“I’m trying to install the shelves in the shower and these aren’t approved for wet/dry application!” he was getting annoyed! He didn’t like feeling incompetent!  
“Didn’t we get these for the pantry shelves? Maybe the ones for the shower are in the kitchen.” She sauntered through the double-wide entryway from the living room, through the small foyer and into the spacious kitchen. She checked a few bags on the countertops, found the right box, and handed it to Sherlock. “These what you’re looking for, sweetie?”  
“I think so…how do you do it?! Now if only you could find my tape measure, you’d have a third miracle accomplished today!” he leaned in to kiss her quickly, but she wrapped her arms around him and just held on, deepening their kiss. She ran her hand down the sweat-dampened fabric of his threadbare T-shirt, planning to end at his ass, but she was halted. Halted by a square box clipped to the back of his belt. It made the unmistakable internal klunk of a standard construction measuring tape. Sherlock had broken the kiss and was now just holding her. She held the tape high enough that she could see it over his shoulder.   
“Sainthood before Ten AM!” He put her at arm’s length and she produced the device. “Behold, my third miracle!”   
He looked at her hand, rolled his eyes, and grabbed the tape from her, scoffing at his blunder, and turning to march from the kitchen in one of his trademark huffs. Molly almost felt bad for him, being a brilliant detective forgetting his ass while it’s attached to his body. However, all the time he’s made others feel inferior…nah, she didn’t feel SO bad!   
“Oh, come here, you!” he paused still facing away from her, she knew, with an indignant look on his face. She threw her arms around him, her head resting perfectly between his shoulder blades. Her hands met just under his sternum. He reached up and covered both of her hands with only his right. She sighed, contently, as he caressed her hands with his thumb.  
“You know I love you, right?” Molly whispered into Sherlock’s left shoulder.   
“Obviously. Forcing people into hard manual labor without pay is an earmark of affection!” Said Sherlock, sarcasm radiating from him.   
“Oh, so you’re worried about compensation? Didn’t we work out any sort of payment arrangement?” Molly slid her hands down his solid abdomen, just brushing over the top of his jeans, and landing on the buckle of his tool belt. It hung low on his hips, held up precariously by his nice round bum. “Let’s see if we can get you something for your trouble!”  
She turned him around to face her and unbuckled the heavy belt. It fell to the floor with a clatter. He grabbed her face to kiss her as she undid his jeans. He loved kissing Molly. He obviously didn’t have much to go on, very little romantic experience before he met her, but he couldn’t imagine a mouth more gentle and inviting than hers.   
She didn’t bother taking his bottoms all the way off. She just adjusted them enough so that her target body part was free and accessible. She ran her hands under his ragged tee, up the smooth and muscular planes of his torso. She wanted to taste him. She removed the shirt with so much enthusiasm it was a wonder it stayed intact.   
He pulled her face back to his, kissing her hard, and with the gusto of a man who’s been without a good snog for a painfully lengthy amount of time, even though they’d had a long makeout session just the night before. Their tongues danced together as their breaths came more quickly.   
Molly’s small hands found the source of the bulge that had been in his jeans, hard and long, and stroked it slowly and firmly. Sherlock whimpered at her knowing touch. She understood exactly how to set him off.   
Molly broke from the kiss, and began planting light kisses down his neck and chest. They hadn’t been working this morning for very long yet, but he’d already developed a light sheen of perspiration. The savory taste of his skin was exactly what she’d been craving for breakfast! She ventured south, seeking out something to, ahem, wash it down with.   
“It’s not too early for this, is it?” she asked in between the kisses she was planting on her way down his torso.  
“Definitely not! However, despite my plans to visit the lumber yard, this was not the type of wood I had in mind when I began the day!”  
Molly chuckled at the joke before getting down to the business at hand.  
\----------------------------------  
“You can return the favor later.” Molly said, standing and dusting some debris from her faded jeans, a glint of smugness in the sidelong glance she threw at her Sherlock.  
“Oh, how generous of you. And I was worried I’d be indebted to you forever. You were in even more excellent form this morning that usual! You did that thing with your tongue…that was, erm, new! Keep that in your repertoire!” Sherlock praised her as he shook out and donned his shirt and reattached his tool belt. He began sarcastically, but he meant the compliments quite sincerely! Molly was going to have to send her friend Maureen a thank you note for her Christmas gift, a subscription to Cosmopolitan. She was making good use out of some of those articles!  
“Will do! And I look forward to your recompense, Mr. Holmes!”  
“As you should, Miss Hooper! You’re not the only one who’s been doing research!” He smiled and winked at her, and all she really wanted upon seeing that was for him to throw her on the counter top and have his naughty way with her. She felt her blood boil.  
“Oh, have you, now? A little preview, maybe?” she raised an eyebrow and bit her lip; something she knew drove him mad. She saw the resolve in his eyes falter only slightly before he found a fortifying force inside himself.  
“I think not, darling! We have some work to do, and if we keep snogging and pleasing each other, you’ll be in an unfinished house again next Christmas!” he kissed her forehead and she pouted, even sticking her lovely lower lip out. She needed to stop tempting him. He already wanted to bite that lip! Why did she have to flaunt it so! “But I promise it will be worth the wait!”  
“Just like you!” she said, smiling her sweetest and most loving smile with her whole face. He smiled back, unfathomably. There was more happiness than anything, but it was also a smile tinged with pain and sadness and regret.   
He’d made her wait so long, he had been such a fool. He put her through so much, yet she never lost faith in him. She loved him unconditionally. He couldn’t help but mourn the years they’d lost to his ignorance and stubbornness. They could be married by now, happy like John and Mary, maybe with a baby of their own on the way!  
This line of thought was dangerous. He mustn’t think about these things too hard. Their relationship was going at a pace that they could both deal with, and they were both on the same page with their future. They both knew that their future was with each other, and that was enough for now.   
\-----------------  
Despite the tawdry detour to the kitchen, Molly had managed to prime all of the sitting room and a whole bedroom by one o’clock! But, she had to stop! Her stomach was empty, despite sounding like it contained a very tiny dragon. She was starving! She searched a few rooms for Sherlock, finding him in the upstairs bathroom applying the bright yellow paint to the walls.   
The sight that met her eyes knocked the wind from her. Sherlock had removed his shirt, still wearing the tool belt and jeans, of course, and was reaching over the vanity light fixture to paint the wall above it. The planes of his body were so elegant, like a dancers, poised in an arabesque preparing for his next sequence. The muscles under his skin rippled with the small, overhead brush strokes he made. How could he be blessed with such grace? She constantly felt like the clumsy sheepdog to his agile gazelle.   
She finally found her voice. “Fancy a nosh?”   
“About time you said something! We both know how long you were standing there, and that you weren’t admiring the shade on the walls.”  
Molly blushed, but held her ground. “Am I not allowed to admire a fine specimen of human anatomy when it’s before me? Especially if that specimen happens to be, oh, I dunno, my boyfriend? Plus, it’s so rare that I get to see moving bodies. I like to admire them whenever I get the chance!”  
“You don’t have to justify your actions to me, darling. I don’t blame you in the slightest. I appeal to your aesthetic. You’re allowed to…ogle me. Especially since we’re together.” He laid the brush across the paint can and stepped over to her. He held her chin and kissed her chastely on the lips.  
“Now, that being said, you must be equally fine with me ogling you on occasion. Understood?”  
She giggled at the idea of being ogled, which was a rarity for her, especially by Sherlock, who paid little attention to anything that wasn’t vital to a case. She was his singular extracurricular focus apart from violin-playing and wall-shooting. “Deal! Now, food! What would you like? Somewhere that delivers? And that won’t judge us for our states of dishevelment…there’s a new pizza place over on Marlybone, I’m sure they deliver! Shall I ring them?”  
“Sure, I’ll be happy with any type of pizza or hot sandwich at this point! I’m ravenous!”  
Hearing Sherlock say “ravenous” gave Molly chills! She gave her ascent and skipped off to the kitchen to find the menu she knew she had lying about. She glanced over the menu, made her selections, and dialed the number on the cover.   
“Mirelli’s Café, my name is Charles. How may I help you?” a friendly voice answered.  
“Yes, delivery.”  
“Ok ma’am, what is your name, number and address?”  
Molly proceeded with her demographic info.  
“Ok, so delivery. What can we make for you today?”  
“I think we need a medium deluxe on thin crust, a chicken parm, the side salad with house Italian, and what puddings do you recommend?”  
“We have raspberry cheesecake, lemon torte, and my personal favorite and top seller, our signature ‘Tira-mousse-ou!’ It consists of café mocha mousse, rich custard, over coffee infused cakes, all topped with a rich whipped cream!”  
“I hope you get a commission from pitching deserts, Charles, because you’ve sold me! Two of the Tira-mousse-ou’s please, and that will complete my order!”  
“Alright, miss, your total is £30.86. Will you pay cash?”  
“Yes.”  
“Right, give us about 25-35 minutes!”  
They gave their farewell greetings and hung up!   
Molly informed Sherlock that the order was placed, telling him how long it would be, then made her way back to the kitchen to make sure they had beverages. On her way to the refrigerator, she saw a few small drops of white liquid that she’d missed while cleaning up after their…earlier activities. She couldn’t help but giggle.   
Molly had fantasized about having Sherlock in her life like this. Going on dates, to movies, hanging out at one of their flats, quickies in the storage closet in her lab, making love to each other, licking all manner of delicious sweet goodness off of each other…hold on, there…they hadn’t done that yet…but maybe they’d get to today! That desert Molly had ordered seemed just the thing for this activity! A little afternoon delight, indeed! Now she was really excited for lunch!  
She was out of sodas, but she had unearthed a bottle of pinot that her aunt had sent her as a housewarming gift. It might pair well with their meal! She washed her hands and got out some glasses, plates, and utensils, too.  
“Well, I’ve got a coat on in the upstairs bathroom, so we’ll see how it dries and then maybe add another over it. Can I do something to help?” he said, wiping a big glob of yellow paint onto his forehead and a little into his hair.  
Molly giggled, “No, babe, but you should come over here and let me fix you up. You’re an utter wreck!”  
“What?” he squawked, almost affronted.  
“You’ve just wiped the color of the bathroom all over your face and into your hair. Come here, before it starts to dry, you clot!” Molly smirked at her silly boyfriend. Wow, the words still crossed her mind almost tentatively, with an odd but pleasant newness.  
He walked over to her, eyes rolling, “Why do I put up with you, Molly Hooper?”  
“Because you like torture, Sherlock Holmes!” she answered, wiping his face with a damp paper towel.  
“No, I think it’s some other reason.”  
“Oh, do you? Why, then? Why are you so keen to hang around with me?” she had dampened a new section of the towel to get the paint in his fringe. God, his hair was beautiful!   
“You mean, apart from you being brilliant, and talented, and beautiful, and more insightful and intelligent than any woman I’ve ever known?”  
“Obviously, apart from that, yeah!” she chuckled, which, in turn, made him chuckle.  
“Apart from you being such a fantastic lover, it’s astounding, even to me?” he caressed her cheek  
“Apart from the way you make me feel when we’re together in every sense of the word?” His hand brushed her neck.  
“Apart from the fact that the way you say my name when you’re coming apart makes me almost believe in a deity?” his hand came to rest above her left breast, right over her racing heart.  
“I dunno, I suppose it’s mainly because I’m in love with you.” Despite the sarcasm buried in his low, purring voice, his eyes were deadly serious. He looked into her eyes, seeking some sort of acceptance or reply. They’d told each other that they loved each other, but never had it been so apparent or so sincere.   
Her breaths were attempting to catch the beats of her heart as Sherlock’s eyes burned holes in her skin with their intensity. She would combust under the gentle touch of his large, slender hand if he didn’t put it to the good use of which she knew he was capable.  
With a gasping hiss, she pulled his lips to hers, her tongue pleading entrance to his mouth, which he willingly gave. He wrapped his arms low around her waist, lifting her slightly off the floor. She nipped his bottom lip just hard enough to send his blood screaming through his veins.   
He moaned into her open mouth and grunted as he grabbed her under her ass and lifted her up, pivoting around to set her on the counter. Her fingers were laced in his hair and her legs wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t get close enough to him.   
He broke away from her to remove her shirt and began tending to her neck and ears. He planted light, infuriating kisses from her shoulder, up her neck, to her ear and whispered “You smell absolutely delicious, my love.” The words, almost a growl, were full of naughty promises.  
As if to immediately fulfill the first, he ran his tongue from her ear, down her clavicle and over her breast. He moved the cup out of the way and began lapping at the soft, taut skin, nipping occasionally and making Molly’s breathing hitch in her throat. As he worked, she tugged lightly on his down-soft hair which fueled his passion. He began to work more feverishly over her flushed skin, eventually descending her abdomen, making his way to her moist warmth. She lifted her hips so he could remove her knickers. He pushed her knees apart and flashed her his most devilish grin as he disappeared between her thighs to keep a second promise.  
***  
She came with a shudder, crying his name. She would never get used to his skilled tongue and nimble fingers. He chuckled at the affirming sound of her heavy breathing from the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just given her.   
“Our meal has a lot to live up to after that. You don’t just smell delicious, love.” He smirked as he stood to kiss her; an attempt to prove the fact to her.   
As if in challenge, the doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of their take-away. “I think I’d better get that, don’t you? You’re a little out of sorts, and more than a little underdressed.” He smirked and haughtily strutted – Sherlock could strut? – toward the foyer leaving her wrecked on the kitchen counter.   
She hopped down, found her clothes, and put them back on while Sherlock paid the delivery man. He walked back into the kitchen with the bags of food as she was zipping her jeans.  
“Bon Appetité!” he exclaimed in his best French accent. She said his best, not the best…it was a bit silly, his attempt, but she still adored it. Finally, something at which he wasn’t exemplary!   
She opened the bottle of wine she’d gotten out, poured two glasses, and distributed them while he put their plates and forks out next to them.   
“This smells fantastic, Molly!” The aroma of garlic, oregano, and peppers filled the kitchen and made them salivate. “Doesn’t it just!” she replied.  
Molly grabbed the deserts and popped them in the fridge until they were finished with their main courses.  
“What were those, Molly?”   
“Our deserts! Tira-mousse-ou! The guy taking my order made it sound irresistible, so I didn’t even try to resist!”   
“Hmm, sounds interesting.” He said, taking a bite of salad, which was ridiculously good. “What’s it like?”  
Molly put some salad, a part of the sandwich and a slice of pizza on her plate. “He said it had café mocha flavored mouse, fluffy custard, whipped topping and espresso infused cakes! Now you see why willpower failed me. I stood not a chance!”  
They ate in amiable and comfortable silence, glancing up on occasion over their wine glasses at each other, smiling sweetly at one another. They had finished the salad, the sandwich, and half of the pizza, and Molly thought she would burst if she even looked at another slice!  
“I vote we keep that place on speed dial!” Sherlock declared, rubbing his minutely distended tummy.   
“Agreed! I’m stuffed! I’m thinking we save the rest of the pizza and the mousse for dinner this evening.”  
“Yes, I’m looking forward to those!” Sherlock said, his voice full of an implication she could not quite decipher.  
“For now, I’m going to waddle upstairs to the master bedroom and on suite and start painting the trim. I may also install the rods for the window treatments! What are you planning to do next?” Molly thought she saw distraction in his face, but he piped up rather quickly.  
“Well, the bathroom won’t be dry yet, so I think I’ll work in here on the pantry shelves, since I know where the fasteners for those are!” They shared a grin. They stood and downed the rest of their wine.  
“Back to work!” Molly said, smacking Sherlock’s perfect ass. His scandalized jump and giggle made her grin. The action was tame compared to some of their exploits, and she knew he was only teasing her with it. She grinned all the wider for the thought.   
***  
Molly had never felt so accomplished as she did at this moment. She had painted all of the trim in her bedroom and in her bathroom in black. She was going with a clean mod look for her suite and had decided that black on white with pops of color here and there in customizable and interchangeable accessories and trinkets was the way to go. This meant she could basically redecorate any time without having to completely repaint. What didn’t go with black and white, after all? It took a few hours, but she was still satisfied.   
She was now examining the instructions on the curtain hardware and heard a throat somewhere behind her being cleared. She turned and saw Sherlock. Sherlock in boxer briefs. Sherlock in boxer briefs holding a takeout container. A takeout container that looked suspiciously like the ones she’d popped in the fridge earlier. Had he read her mind?  
“The thought of eating this magnificent dish out of a plain bowl was repugnant to me. I brought up a few spoons and thought maybe we could find a more creative solution.” His eyes held a desire that she had yet to see until now. They seemed to contain tiny embers that glowed merrily through the windows of his pupils. She knew any fuel added would turn the glow into an outright flame.   
“I’m a fan of creative problem solving.” She said, rising from her seat on the floor and walking toward him, curtain rod abandoned for a more pleasing task.  
Molly stood before Sherlock, dipped a finger into the sweet substance, and brought it slowly to her mouth. She seductively took her finger in and licked it indecently clean, never breaking eye contact with the man before her.   
“You have on entirely too many layers. Fix that.” He said, authoritatively.  
“That sounded like an order.” Molly said, determined not to let him get the upper hand.  
He leaned into her personal space, inclining his head to her ear. “It was, Miss Hooper. An order I expect you to follow. Immediately.”  
The aggression, though not angry or violent, was enough to restart her heart and spur her to obey the words. She removed her top layer of clothes, exposing her undergarments.  
“That’s better. But why stop when you’ve got the hang of things? Continue.”  
Molly unclasped her bra and slid it off, tossing it on the pile of clothes her jeans and shirt had begun. She shimmied out of her panties and put them on top of the same pile.   
“Very good. Now, lie down.” What had gotten into this man? She wasn’t complaining, but he’d never played the dominant before. At least not to this extreme.  
She stepped toward her bed and climbed in, settling herself in the middle.   
“Excellent. Now Molly, I’m going to apply some of this to you, but I don’t want you to move. Please remain still until I tell you otherwise. If it would help, try holding on to the slats in your headboard. If you become uncomfortable, please say the word “tobacco” and I will stop. Do you understand?”  
“Yes…sir?” she said tentatively, not sure whether he wanted her to observe the formality of this type of activity.   
“You don’t have to do that, but I do quite like it, so if you don’t mind…”  
“Happy to, sir.” She said with a low and almost undetectable chuckle.  
“Mmmm, lovely. Now…shall we begin?” It was barely a question.  
“Please, sir.”  
He smiled and began the application. He spooned it strategically onto her torso, down almost to her legs, and then gently smoothed it over her skin with the back of the spoon.   
It was a great internal battle trying to keep still when she just wanted to squirm and push her pelvis into Sherlock. This dominant Sherlock. A take-charge man with a very naughty plan. It surprised her that submission was this enticing to her. She couldn’t say it was easy, but it was a great pleasure.   
He sat the partially depleted container on the nightstand and climbed into the bed, positioning himself over her.  
“How are we feeling? Alright?  
“More than that, sir.”  
“Fantastic! Now, I’m going to remove the mousse. Remember to be as still as possible.”  
She nodded, hoping that would be enough of a reply, as she was worried an attempt at something more vocal would result in inarticulate moans. Apparently it was enough, because he started the next phase of the process.   
Maybe it was because when he slathered the sweet stuff onto her he never made physical contact between the spoon and her skin. Maybe it was because they had spent the whole day in a kind of foreplay. But whatever the reason, she was so wound up that every pass of his tongue made her tremble and nearly implode.  
She was concentrating so hard on not moving, she began to ache. She would be sore tomorrow from holding her body so tensely still. Then, as Sherlock worked his way down toward her legs, the task of being a statue became nearly impossible. She separated her knees a bit, trying to entice Sherlock even further south.   
“All in good time, darling.” He grinned, impishly up at her, his chin and nose topped with what didn’t quit make it into his mouth. How much longer was this going to take! He’d cleaned her up mostly, she thought.   
He came up to her mouth to give her a quick peck, but she latched onto his mouth for dear life, abandoning her stationary state and threading her fingers into his luscious hair. She could taste the chocolate, coffee, and custard flavor of their puddings on his tongue. He broke the passionate kiss, panting, and rested his forehead on hers. She kissed the sweetness off his face, slowly, with very thorough and enthusiastic licks.  
“Now I’m going to lift the ban on movement. Feel free to make as much noise as you want, as well.” He smirked, dropping soft kisses onto her skin as he made his way back down to where he left off.   
Was this really necessary? Did he have to be so good at this? Did his kisses have to leave her breathless, no matter where they landed? The suction he was giving her tender flesh wasn’t at all called for.   
She was just about to think “Don’t even get me started on those fingers!” when he began using them. Again, why!? Not only why, but how? How could he ignite her further when she was already ablaze? It was as though she was his prized violin, and he was playing her expertly, music reverberating throughout her body and piercing the air. Seconds later came the crescendo and the grand finale of the piece. She shivered, gasping his name as she recovered. He laid down next to her, caressing her warm skin and kissing her neck and ears.   
“Mmmm, why do you do things like this to me?”  
“Did you want me to stop?” He smirked, knowing full well the answer!  
“God, no! Never! But, I do think it’s my turn! Trade me spots.”  
“That sounded like an order!” he said, mirroring Molly’s earlier words.   
“Oh, it was, Mr. Holmes. Make no mistake.” She rolled over on top of him, assaulting his lips with hers. He held her tightly and sat them both up, restraining her in a last exhibition of dominance. She ensnared his wrists in her hands and pinned them next to his shoulders, reiterating that she was the one in control now.  
“Now now, Mr. Holmes. That’s enough of that. You’re going to be nice and still for me, aren’t you?” She cooed in his ear.  
“Yes.” The feeling of her lips on his sensitive neck was almost more than he could take.   
She bit down, a little too hard, on his shoulder, causing him to gasp.  
“Just ‘yes?’ Come now, Mr. Holmes. I think you know better.”  
His focus was scattered in sensation, so he couldn’t think of the correct word…he knew “ma’am” wasn’t right. She wasn’t the Queen, after all. And “misses” and “miss” both seemed wrong too. Then it came to him.  
“Yes, mistress.”  
“That’s better!” she said, with a dark satisfaction ringing in her voice. She kissed him hard, intruding far into his mouth too briefly, then backed away down to his hips, removing his now overstretched black pants. She tossed them across the room, aiming for nowhere in particular and then stretched out to grab the container of dessert from the nightstand.   
“I laid very still for you, Sherlock. Please do me the same courtesy. Can you?”  
“Yes, I think I can. I will do my best for you, mistress.”  
“Excellent!”   
She began applying the mousse all over his torso just as he had done to hers. Using a feather light touch, she spread the creamy sweet goodness all over his chest and abdomen. He tried, with difficulty, to steady his breathing and control his heart rate. Mercifully, she finished, setting the empty container back on the nightstand, which gave him a welcome respite before the oncoming storm.   
She repositioned herself over him, kissing him hard and with an enthusiasm that made his body twitch, and she must have felt it happen because she looked at him mischievously.  
“I’ll let that slide because I know it was involuntary, but any other movement will be met with corporal punishment. Do you understand?  
“Yes, mistress.” His voice filled with a mixture of fear and eager anticipation.  
Then she began eating her dessert from the smooth surface of his skin. She paid special attention to his nipples, making doubly sure that nothing remained behind on them. She spent a little more time than was strictly necessary at the notch where his neck meets his clavicle. It was her favorite area of her body. Well, her second favorite, if you didn’t count his head. She was on her way to her favorite spot now, making sure he was free of the sweet stuff, especially on his pelvic bones. Oh, those, too, were remarkable. Maybe a close third if not tied for second place.   
Sherlock shuddered as she got closer to his center. He could feel himself losing control of his body and beginning to move. Molly stopped and gave his a swift but stinging swat on his hip very close to his ass. He let out a startled grunt.  
“Sherlock, you know better. No moving until I say you can.”  
“Yes, mistress. Sorry, mistress.”  
She was not hating being the dominant one herself either. She couldn’t tell at this moment which one she liked more. They would need much more experimentation with this kink, she thought. Much, much more. They were both scientists, after all, at least in a manner of speaking. And research was very important for science. She smiled, lowering herself back over him.  
Sherlock held the bed sheets for dear life. Molly’s mouth and tongue were a miracle working over his swollen and sensitive flesh. He couldn’t believe she was only one person down there. She must have begun using her hands, because there were too many sensations. Screams and groans of pleasure were being sent from his pelvic region straight to his brain, almost skipping the filter that he’d developed over recent years, and escaping his mouth. He stifled it though. Not that he didn’t want her to spank him again, but that could wait until next time. He was focused on getting off, and he didn’t want her to stop now.  
Molly sensed that if she went on much longer, he would reach his completion too early, so she removed him from her mouth, and ascended his body to kiss his lips. She heard a whimper or a groan somewhere in his chest.  
“Don’t worry, darling. The worst is over. The captain has switched off the seat belt sign. You may move freely about the cabin.” She chuckled.   
He took her perhaps more literally than she’d intended and flipped her onto the bed, the pressure of his body on hers causing her to sink more deeply into the mattress. His mouth was unrelenting on hers, exploring, biting, and sucking as if this was the last time he’d get to do it for a long time.   
She felt her desire for him increase and wrapped her arms and legs around him in a futile attempt to bring his body even closer to hers. They really couldn’t get any closer, save for one spot.  
He looked down into her beautiful brown eyes, conveying with his own light marine blue ones everything he wanted to say. His love for her, his angst at all the hurt he’d ever caused her, his hope for their future together, and of course, his intense desire for her. Her own gaze answered with exuberant reciprocation. She nodded for him to continue. He grinned and closed the final distance between them, causing them both to gasp.  
Neither one of them could spare a thought right now. The way they were intertwined was causing perfect friction where each of them needed it. It was driving all else from their heads and they were functioning on instinct. Near the end, Sherlock looked at Molly, brushed a lock of hair out of her face, and kissed her deeply, never ceasing the movement being made by the other parts of his body. They finished a moment later, neither one coming first, and both shouting the name of the other.

Sherlock collapsed onto Molly, resting his head on her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. He took her hand in his and began moving his thumb in a slow, elliptical pattern, on the back of it. This slowed her breathing to almost normal. Molly similarly calmed Sherlock by stroking the short hair where his skull met his neck. They sighed contently in each other’s arms for a few minutes.  
“Well, you picked a fine pudding, Molly dear! I say we get it again!”  
“Oh, yes, I quite agree! Say, don’t we have some of that pizza left? I’m ravenous!”  
Hearing her say the word “ravenous” sent his blood flowing back to his groin again. What was it about that word?  
“We do,” he said, coyly and added “as well as another whole Tira-mousse-ou!” he grinned and winked at her.  
“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” she hopped off the bed and donned her dressing gown. He dismounted the bed and found his pants.  
“Come, Sherlock! The game is on!” she smacked his bare ass while he was bent to pick them up.  
He stood with a start, and chased after her, pants in hand, to the dimly lit kitchen, thankful that most of the windows he passed were more dressed than he was.


End file.
